dominus vobiscum

~

     Located at various positions around Road’s cannon were 5 wetbacks from Meh-hee-ko.

     This was Poncho and his pals.

     Poncho was the sharp hombre who’d slow danced so close with Mary the night before.  He had also slept that one cold night in the back room of the gas station in the hills.  With him that night had been Memo, who was taller, and lean and strong.

     Memo, at the moment, stepped back from the cannon’s snout, with the ramming stick at rest in his hands.

     A 13 year old boy, Cid, stood at the rear of the cannon, waiting patiently like the man he consistently strained to be, had to be, if he was to survive the hard life cut out for him on the Ramona valley egg ranch above the border where he worked long hours.  Once he had the money Road was going to pay him, he no longer would have to work these long hours ~ not for a few years anyway.  He lived below the border.

     At the moment he had an unlit stick match in his hand that shook slightly and was poised next to the cannon’s fuse.  Thus the need for patience.

     This 13 year old wetback was also lean ~ due to hard work and the absence of luxuries like over eating.

     Juan, 23 years old, the oldest of Poncho’s pals, stood on the other side of the cannon from Memo.  The cannon was, of course, aimed bold and awesome at the church’s front door.

     Juan also worked at the egg ranch ~ and lived in Mexico.  He drove himself and little Cid to Ramona and back 6 days a week, in an old ’38 Dodge pick-up truck ~ painted black.  Juan also could take a long boner of a vacation when paid by Road.

     Scattered on the street below the cannon’s muzzle were numerous empty rice boxes.  One empty rice box was still in Juan’s hand.  This box had been the last one to have its contents spilled down the cannon’s barrel.

     On their way to the wedding, Road had stopped at a big grocery store in San Diego on the corner of College Avenue and El Gringo Boulevard, had bought all the boxes of rice on the shelf.  There was a lot of rice in Road’s cannon ~ for Tulip’s wedding.

     Road had also bought a quart bottle of whiskey and a box of cigars at the liquor store across the boulevard from the grocery store.

     As for the illegal aliens (or wetbacks), Road had picked them up at the end of the dirt road he turned down while traveling Highway 94 ~ a preconceived plan.  Poncho and his pals had hiked a short trail from Mexico to the rendezvous spot.

~

~

    Poncho, by the way, had learned some English in Tijuana since he’d last seen Road a few weeks earlier at the Mobil gas station ~ thus piece by piece with a lot missing out he was able to tell Road about the 12 cannons in Pedro Mendez’s abandoned garlic mine.

     Pedro Mendez was Poncho’s uncle.

     And Poncho, at the moment, was sitting in the driver’s seat of Road’s truck, which was idling.

     So ~

     Road’s cannon had a cannon crew.  And Road’s cannon was aimed at the big brick church’s opened double front door out of which Tulip and he had exited.  When all the other people came running out after Road and Tulip, Road yelled, “Ole!”

     That was the signal for little half smiling, half sneering Cid to strike his match.  So he struck it across the round top of the cannon and set what flame he had to the cannon’s fuse ~ and stepped back with his ears plugged.

     Poncho gunned the truck’s engine.

     Road hopped into the cab, dragged Tulip with him.

     The people charged.

     Rice explosively bloomed out of the cannon’s mouth ~ a forceful dry splash of wedding cheer!

     The boom was so loud that the windshield in Road’s truck cracked.

     Some of the charging wedding goers (or leavers) ducked.  Others fell over.  The rest bravely accepted the stingy wedding cheer in their faces.  One young man fainted.  Many lay on the ground afraid to open their eyes, thinking they might be dead.  Only one person was shot incurably blind by the rice: the mother of the bride, who could now add blindness to her woes and her crippled back.

     Some people have no luck.

     Memo, Juan, and Little Cid jumped into the rear of the truck, thru the rear doors ~ and the 5th crew man, a Mexican whose name was, yes, San Diego, bolted the doors shut from the inside as driver Poncho punched the truck smokey down the street.

     Tulip raised a quizzical glance at Road, as he peered at the rear view mirror.  Tulip had just heard him say softly, maybe even reverently, “Dominus Vobiscum.”

     That’s Catholic latin for, “The Lord be with you.”

~

~

text from

the short novel

~

~

~

~

editor

spitball fury

~

Saint Paul’s Hymn to Love

1 Corinthians Chapter 13

Jerusalem Bible

~

Though I command languages both human & angelic ~ if I speak without love, I am no more than a gong booming or a cymbal clashing.  And though I have the power of prophecy, to penetrate all mysteries & knowledge, and though I have all the faith necessary to move mountains ~ if I am without love, I am nothing.  Though I should give away to the poor all that I possess, and even give up my body to be burned ~ if I am without love, it will do me no good whatever.

~

~

Love is always patient and kind; love is never jealous; love is not boastful or conceited, it is never rude & never seeks its own advantage, it does not take offense or store up grievances.   Love does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but finds its joy in the truth.  It is always ready to make allowances, to trust to hope & to endure whatever comes.

~

~

Love never comes to an end.  But if there are prophecies, they will be done away with; if tongues, they will fall silent; and if knowledge, it will be done away with.  For we know only imperfectly, and we prophesy imperfectly; but once perfection comes, all imperfect things will be done away with.  When I was a child, I used to talk like a child, and see things as a child does, and think like a child; but now that I have become an adult, I have finished with all childish ways.  Now we see only reflections in a mirror, mere riddles, but then we shall be seeing face to face.  Now I can know only imperfectly; but then I shall know just as fully as I am myself known.

~

~

As it is, these remain: faith, hope and love, the three of them; and the greatest of them is love.

~

editor

Rawclyde!

Halo

~

by Rawclyde!

~

You & I

Two daffodils in a flower pot

Watching TV

The image is blurry

Mightily

I stomp my foot

Now the image is clear & percise

Triumphantly

I & the TV glare back at you

In your faded flower-print nightie

In your comfortable chair

Your hair growing long & elegantly cornball

You won’t look at me

Okay, you sneak a glance

Suddenly

I see a halo around your head

I see I see

You are a saint!

~

photo by

Agnieszka Osipa

~

What A Gal!

Clyde (left) and Susan and (right) Chuck

~

First love

Way back in the fifth grade

A vivid classroom memory prevails

Chuck & I watching you

Pick your nose & roll your boogers into little balls

Then tossing them into the hair of Greg P

As he slept with his head on his desk

What a gal

!

from

The Autobiographical Fantasies & Transformations Of

Rawclyde

!

photo from Annie Get Your Gun (1950)

!

Will You Still Need Me? Will You Still Feed Me?

~

T’was a red hot brand

That singed my hide forever

When you passed me in your new Volvo

On College Avenue

~

I was lollygagging along

In my brother’s ’56 Chevy

When you honked, waved, smiled

And accelerated as if a gust of wind

~

I would have chased you down

But I was having a logical moment

No, I’d get a ticket &

You’d get away, so I didn’t

~

The blond in the little white station wagon

Fresh out of high school & accelerating

A sight to behold, a flash

A photo forever in my mind

~

I finally caught up to you at 64

A remnant of yesteryear

Bee-bopping in the kitchen making me breakfast

A plate of nourishment piled a mile high

~

Rawclyde!

~

photo

Buffalo Bill Cody

~

A Princess Of Mars

When I kiss thee

On ye

Dimpled knee

Let it be

Let it be

Let it be

It is only me

Being free

Adoring thee

Let it be

Let it be

Let it be

My eyes overflow with stars

My soul twangs a thousand guitars

You are my Princess of Mars!

Let it be

Let it be

Let it be

~

Rawclyde!

~

artwork via

Dynamite Comics & Vinicius Menezes

~

seeking the blessings of

Edgar Rice Burroughs

~

Back In The Tomb

~

Why oh why

Baby oh baby

Please tell me why

I’m moving so slow today

~

Up the street

Up the stairs

Rickety old feet

Plodding along

~

Pull me brim down

Pull me keys out

Unlock the door etc.

Sittin’ in the tomb again

~

Why o’ why do I

Like sitting in this old cold hotel room

There ain’t nothin’ here worth considering

Yet my heart go zooooooom

~

Aye!

We’re traveling now

You & your traveling man

Hold on tight now

~

You is lookin’ so good

The whole dang neighborhood

Inside my mind

Gots reason to shine

~

Yeah but

Yeah but

You say I’m way over here

You is way over there

~

So it ain’t so

My thinking’s gone slow

You got bronchitis &

I’m a wanna-be bo’

~

Yeah but

Yeah but

I hummed a little prayer

to the Goddess up there

~

She’s on your side

As well as mine &

She’s a lot stronger than

Turpentine

~

Sooooooo

We’re dancing slow

Your belly’s warm & plump &

We’re half drunk

~

In fact, instead of growing old

We’re growing young

Oh so slow

To a Neil Diamond song

~

Wait a minute

Something’s not right

My hat falls to the floor

Something’s wrong

~

You’re like you always are

The hottest ray of sunshine around

But me, me oh my, my skin

It’s lost & cannot be found

~

Dang it ~ everything was so gallant

Gallant & slam-dunk grand

No more yeah butts

I am, I am a skeleton man!

~

~

by Rawclyde!

with a lot of help from artists

Dan Dos Santos

&

Clyde Caldwell

~

Waiting For The Bus

~

Here come the bus!

Here come the bus!

We’re ready to ride

God bless us!

~

Try not to cuss

Try not to fuss

Manners are a must

When yer boardin’ de bus

~

We don’t know each other

Shut-up, brother

Excuse me, sister

Muzzle your mother

~

Don’t be afraid

To slap that brat

We won’t report you

Give me back me old hat

~

Would you like to buy it?

It’s a hundred dollar hat

It fits right here

Yes, my head’s kinda fat

~

My baby said I gotta go

She surely know

This old tramp

Movin’ kind a slow

~

Yes, you may sit here

Give her room please

A pretty woman

Smooth shoulder tease

~

Pullin’ down me brim

Ready to sleep the whole way

Oops, my head’s tilting over

Didn’t mean to stray

~

 Ridin’ the bus!

Ridin’ the bus!

We been waiting so long

God bless us!

~

Rawclyde!

~